As long as I don't have to look at a herpified cootch. I think that is a bit much outside of biology/sexuality textbooks. (Although sexuality books always draw people fascinated/horrified by their explicit photographs, the one chapter that is all horror and no fascination is always the STI chapter.)

As a side note, on the weird famous people thing, apparently Michael Jackson was demanding back from the DA's office any and all photos of his wang that may have been taken. (I assume were, if he, like, knows to ask for them.) The to radio jockeys this morning who were discussing it were like, "But it's not like they could publish photos of his you know what, you know?"

Until they remembered the internet.

No Stairway? Denied!

t lovin' on Lilty

Tom Cruise gave Katie Holmes Scientology AND herpes? That poor girl...

My question is: Which is worse?

Hey, -t! I don't know if you're on Netflix, but I think I remember us bonding over The Pirate Move love, which is now available. Yay!

(Just so we're clear, the simplex kind of herpes that causes cold sores isn't the same kind of herpes as the kind that infests sexual organs. Everybody knows that, right?)

It's possible Katie is giving him herpes. Hey! That is her part of the devil's bargain! Scientology for herpes.

Which would you rather have?

Ooh, thanks juliana! I'll go add it now!

I just finished the BMW movies. What was the deal with the "subplot" movies?

Everybody knows that, right?

As a long time sufferer of cold sores, I certainly did.

I was rather shocked in college to find out that my doctor had tested me for herpes because of a boil on my thumb.

(Just so we're clear, the simplex kind of herpes that causes cold sores isn't the same kind of herpes as the kind that infests sexual organs. Everybody knows that, right?)

Yes. The former is actually a flare-up of old chicken pox virus that's still wandering around the body.

I was rather shocked in college to find out that my doctor had tested me for herpes because of a boil on my thumb.

Hey, I actually got herpes on my ring finger once. I had to run back into the main office from the server room, went to pull the door shut behind me, and caught my wedding ring on the latch, ripping a big hole in my finger. No worries, but, apparantly, before I got around to putting a band-aid on it, I grabbed a doorknob, or telephone, or something, that someone had touched after playing their cold sores, and . . . .